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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074129">Living with the dead</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/caligulasArmageddon/pseuds/caligulasArmageddon'>caligulasArmageddon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Human Cronus, Humanstuck, M/M, ghost kankri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:07:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/caligulasArmageddon/pseuds/caligulasArmageddon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cronus and his family get uplifted from their lavish home to move into a tiny two bedroom shack. Everything is as horrible as you can imagine, but it can only get better right? No, not only is the house ugly and small it’s also haunted</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cronus Ampora/Kankri Vantas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Living with the dead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You do not believe in ghosts, or so you thought. Your family (plus Sheila) moved into a new home just a few weeks ago. Nor you or your brother are enjoying any minute of this. Your Dad remarried this year to a busty blonde woman named Sheila. She is only in her late 20’s and that slightly disgusts you; although you can give your dad some mad props for landing such a hot piece of ass. Yeah it may be weird to think your new mom is hot but how can you blame yourself when she looks like that. Many of clean sheets have been dirtied by your fantasies. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You think you she is pretty sexy but you hate everything about her. She uprooted all of you out of your lovely mansion by the sea so you can move into this two story hovel in the city. Your father is eating it up and is actually excited to remodel this dump. You and Eridan are equally hating everything about this. Your old life while rather lonely had a charm to it. By charm you mean, you were a rich asshole who people hated. Well you are still a rich asshole that people hate but now you have no sweet pad to take babes to. Though you do not actually have any babes to take anywhere in the first place. Your dick’s only company is your hand at the moment. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The day you arrive you just want to jump back into your car and drive off a cliff. You’d probably get some good pity points from the chicks if you broke a few bones so you really considered it for a moment. You fully take in your surroundings as you get out of the car. It’s really fucking tiny. A two story house with peeling white paint, a cracked window on the second floor, and only two bedrooms. You are</span>
  <span class="s2">not </span>
  <span class="s1">sharing a room with your dipshit little brother. The two of you argued over the room in the attic for hours before you finally convinced him to sleep in the connected garage. You wish you didn’t win the room. <br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The whole house just seemed </span>
  <span class="s2">off</span>
  <span class="s1">, it didn’t help that all your stuff keeps disappearing only to turn up somewhere else. Let’s not forget the cold and warm spots. Your dad says It’s just an ac issue but you don’t believe him. Now you are not one to obsess on the supernatural, well anymore. You still have all your old ‘wizard stuff’, you just couldn’t bring yourself to through it out. You flip through one of your old books and find out what your suspicions might lead. No it is not childish at all but you definitely </span>
  <span class="s2">don’t</span>
  <span class="s1"> believe it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything leads to your house being haunted. Which is totally stupid but it doesn’t stop you from feeling like you’re being watched. You know it’s just your stupid childhood ideologies creeping up on you again. Ghosts aren’t real, nor are any type of supernatural creature or magic in general. You still can’t shake the feeling like you have eyes on you at all times. The only time this stops is when you leave your house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your dad had a talk with you afterwards, about the whole feeling like your being watched thing. You told him you weren’t joking this time but he just told you to stop being dramatic. And maybe you were being just a tiny bit dramatic about the whole thing but when are you not dramatic. You were right though. You woke up about two weeks in to your brother standing beside your bed watching you. You absolutely freaked; you sat up panting and in your distressed state you grabbed your alarm clock and threw it at him while screaming. He made a loud yelp sound and just vanished somehow. Low and behold your brother comes storming into your room telling you to shut up. You sat there confused for a moment. If your brother just came into your room now to yell at you who was watching you sleep?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The answer came very quickly. It was only a few days later after the event when you came home from school to see your whole room cleaned, a stack of books about social justice on your desk, and even a bible thrown in there. Now you are no religious man and you definitely know your dad ain’t. You assume it must be Sheila since she is kinda into the whole thing, she did pick this house mostly because it was near a church. You approach her about it but she says she had no idea what you’re talking about. You are inclined to believe her this time around because she doesn’t give you that ‘oh I don’t know maybe’ smile she does when she’s lying about something. That unsettles you a bit. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wish it had been her because that at least would have been an answer. For the next few days it just gets weirder. You find your bed made when you come home, notes on your desk to eat better and you quote ‘stop partaking in such Indecent activities’. You do not listen to whoever is sending you these notes, you continue to jack off constantly much to this mystery persons dismay.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On one of yours </span>
  <span class="s2">many </span>
  <span class="s1">nights of ‘self love’ he finally shows himself. You had unbuckled your pants, dropping them to your knees. You had just loaded up good ol’ pornhub, your hands just dared to dip below your boxers when the phone was snatched out of your hands. There he stood waving the thing in front of you screaming about how Porn supports rape culture, sex trafficking, all that stuff. You hadn’t really been paying attention to what he’d been saying because you were far too dazed. There was a ghost in your room yelling at you about how triggering your actions were. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He didn’t look ghosty at all. Well you have no idea what a ghost is supposed to look like but you have a picture painted in your head from movies. This guy was none of that. He had tanned skin freckles all over, curly black hair that frames his face, and brown eyes. He was much shorter than you too probably only 5’ or something. He wore an oversized red sweater, black jeans, and white socks (no shoes huh?). You guess he caught you starring because the next thing you hear is, “Are you even listening to me?” His voice is all squeaky with rage. He pocketed your phone and just stormed out.</span>You stood up just looking around your room for a minute. What the fuck is up with this house?</p><p class="p2">  You do not get your phone back for a couple of days. Dad freaks on you for losing it and the next thing you know it’s on your desk with a little note attached, ‘Here you can have your little device back but promise to not support that awful industry. It promotes rape culture for one, second of all most of the videos are filled with incest which is absolutely disgusting, third may I point out that……’ you stopped reading after that point. You’re a little dazed by the whole thing. This ‘ghost’ doesn’t seem to care that you’re all up in space. Most movies told you that ghosts hate having people in their house. You didn’t really mind him either to be honest. He was a little annoying from time to time with his incessant yelling about how everything you do is triggering or offensive in some way.</p><p class="p2">  He found out your name after your dad yelled at you from the kitchen and he’s been swift use of it. Every other sentence has your name thrown in there. You think he just likes saying it at this point. You tell him one night you would rather hear him moaning your name instead of just screaming at you and it results in a punch to the nose. New thing you found out, ghosts can touch you and also leave bruises in their wake.</p><p class="p2">  He hates how you smoke in the house (actually he just hates you smoking at all), You move your ashtray onto the balcony and smoke outside now. He hates how loud you play your music so you turn it down. He hates how much porn you watch; you don’t actually change that habit but it doesn’t matter. You didn’t realize how much you were changing until he thanks you for it one day.</p><p class="p2">  It’s October now, he’s sitting on the beanbag chair you bought him while reading. You’re ignoring your homework to go on tumblr to complain about how hard it is to be a sensitive artist. He lifts his head from his reading and sets the book on his lap. He stares at you for a moment until whispering a small “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” You were completely put off by this. He rolls his eyes. He stood up and brushed off his pants, although you don’t think he can even collect dust. He walks over to your desk, placing the book down. He didn’t look at you this time, “I said thank you. You didn’t have to accommodate me like this, it’s your house now after all.” It hits you then. You just let all this slide. You’ve been mindlessly living side by side a dead person for a month, you don’t even know his name. None of this makes any sense </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    
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